


With a Song in my Heart

by RefugeeofTumblr



Category: Happy Feet (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cross-species Relationship, F/M, M/M, Penguins, Tap Dancing, heartsongs, penguin sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7288012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefugeeofTumblr/pseuds/RefugeeofTumblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mumble finds his soulmate, which should be the hard part. To his dismay, they have to fight past far more barriers than the fact that he can't sing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a Song in my Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, read Nine's voice with a Northern (English) accent in mind. Like [the Doctor's voice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYoLG_iP9Ec), because I'm a sucker for that guy's accent.

Chapter 1

Mumble sighs, watching Gloria preen the last bits of downy fluff from her body. She’s maturing now. Her adult coat is gorgeous; her underparts gleam white, her back and flippers are a lovely bluish-black, and her throat is collared with feathers of bright yellow.

‘You look great,’ Mumble says encouragingly. _Especially compared to me,_ he adds silently. The bottom half of his body looks fairly normal for a young emperor penguin – white underparts, black back. But despite his best efforts to pull them off his downy juvenile coat still clings to the top of his body, and his eyes haven’t darkened to a normal hazel brown as Gloria’s have.

His inward criticism is obvious to her. Laying a flipper across his back, she offers her longtime friend a gentle smile.

‘It’s okay, Mumble. You look...distinguished. I’m sure you’ll graduate with the next class.’

He shakes his head. ‘No, Gloria. I’m not going back to that. I’ll just have to show whatever female is meant to be my soulmate that I’m good at fishing.’

‘Are you?’ She cocks her head to one side, trying to remember if she’s ever seen her friend swim before. Has he been sneaking away from the watchful eyes of the colony? It’s not like he’s easy to mistake for anyone else.

‘No!’ He pauses. ‘Yes? I don’t know yet, I guess. I feel like it’ll be easier than singing, at least.’

Glancing up at the sky, Gloria sends a silent prayer to the Great ‘Guin. _Help Mumble. Please. If any penguin has ever needed you, he does._

They don’t say anything more as they take separate routes from their secret meeting place, hidden in a part of the ice tunnels that Mumble stumbled across a few months prior.

*****

The graduation ceremony is just beginning as Mumble finds his way through the crowd. Parents and newly fledged youngsters alike are rowdy today; he’s slapped twice by flailing flippers before he sees his mother over the heads of the assembled graduates.

Norma Jean is worried. Mumble knows her expressions even better than Gloria’s by now. She does her best to hide it once she sees him, smiling encouragingly, but the smile doesn’t thaw the sadness in her eyes. And he’s never seen her so quiet.

‘Hey Ma,’ he greets her by giving her neck feathers a brief preening, but stops when Noah the Elder’s booming voice echoes over the ice. It’s obvious that Noah has been preened thoroughly in honor of the occasion. His coat gleams as the sun glares over the ridge from behind him, and the lively look in his eyes is as obvious as ever. Mumble shifts from one foot to the other, despairing, as his mood begins to sour.

‘A long time ago, our ancestors forsook our wings for flippers,’ Noah booms. ‘And now you graduates going to sea for the first time are to reap the benefits of their wise choice.’

He stops for a moment to allow the scattered cheers to die down. Then he continues, more solemnly.

‘These are lean and uncertain times. But by the power of the ancient penguin wisdoms, we, my brethren, will endure.’

‘EXCELSIOR, rah rah rah!’ The new graduates roar as one.

Laughing, Noah nods, waving a flipper. ‘Go, go! Fill your young bellies.’

Mumble feels Norma Jean snort derisively beside him. He turns to her as the other young emperors flock toward the edge of the ice, heading out to catch fish for the first time. His mother’s chest is puffed up with righteous fury, and her eyes smolder with a fiery rage that he’s only seen a handful of times before.

‘It’s okay, Ma. I’m gonna be fine.’

She nods without looking at him. ‘Not you I’m worried about, sugar. But you take care out there, okay?’

‘I know.’

As he leaves the vast natural bowl that the emperor colony calls home, Mumble casts one last glance back at the assembly before they’re taken from his sight. A lone figure – he knows his mother’s profile anywhere, and that’s her, all right – stands tall and proud, staring accusingly up at the elders.

*****

The Aurora Australis dances in the sky that night as the graduation party rages nonstop. Mumble listens from a distance, head tucked under one flipper. As lovely as Gloria’s voice is, he can’t help but wish that they’d be quiet and let him sleep already.

Watching the fragile gleam of the ice beneath his feet, Mumble listens and thinks. It’s a luxury he hasn’t been allowed for a long time now. Even when he feels so alone among the other emperors (which pretty much describes every waking moment, now that he thinks about it), it’s still far too loud and crowded to facilitate introspection.

He jabs his claws into the ice listlessly. The soft _tap_ sounds horribly fragile in the night’s all-encompassing emptiness.

_Would the world be better off without me? What use is an emperor that can’t sing?_

*****

He can’t keep going anymore. Every muscle aches with fatigue and he struggles to even raise his beak for air.

 _Where am I?_ Nine laments. _What happened? I was going North..._

No land in sight. Nothing he can use to stay afloat, nothing that could potentially save his life. _This is the end, then,_ he realizes, and is surprised by how little fear he feels at the prospect. Then his eyes slide closed as he loses the fight to stay conscious.

*****

Mumble is about to lose his temper when he notices a strange shape bobbing in the water about ten meters to his left. Gloria and the rest of the singers keening to the night are forgotten in an instant as he realizes that the dark, torpedo-esqe shape is a penguin.

Eyes widening, Mumble leaps into the frigid sea and swims to the other penguin as fast as he can. He doesn’t waste any time checking their gender, species, or anything else. He simply lifts their head so they can breathe and struggles back onto dry ice, the other penguin sprawled awkwardly over his back.

Then there isn’t much to do besides dry his feathers – down sucks in an alarming amount of water – and wait. For a long time he watches the unconscious male (at least he thinks it’s male), noting that he looks much like an emperor. But he’s slightly smaller, and more colorful, with grey back feathers and a far larger patch of golden-yellow around his neck than Mumble has ever seen on an emperor before.

‘Who are you?’ Mumble asks softly. But the strange male doesn’t stir, though at least he appears to be breathing.

Resigning himself to the wait, Mumble tucks his head under one flipper again and tunes out the last songs of the night.

*****

Nine groans. Everything hurts, and he has to cough up a bit of water that found its way into his lungs.

Oh, it’s cold! As he looks around, he realizes with wonder that he’s lying on ice. There isn’t a rock or patch of dirt to be seen.

‘Ice!’ He exclaims quietly. _I’ve gone...South?_

A voice sounds behind him.

‘Oh, you’re awake!’

The voice belongs to the strangest penguin Nine has ever set eyes on. He has white feathers on his belly and black ones on his back, but grey down still clings to most of his upper body, including his head. And as if that wasn’t odd enough, his eyes are blue. _Just like mine!_

He can’t remember ever seeing another of his own species with blue eyes. Nine sizes up the odd penguin while pushing himself to his feet. At least this lone male – he assumes the other is a male – doesn’t seem aggressive. ‘Who’re you?’

‘I’m Mumble. Who are you? And what were you doing in the water like that?’

Nine frowns. Did this Mumble save his life? ‘Got lost,’ he says briefly, not yet sure how much to divulge.

‘Lost? You’re not from Emperor Land, then?’ Mumble, who had been keeping a respectful distance, steps closer, peering at Nine’s plumage.

Emperor Land? Nine gulps. He’s heard of emperors. They’re a cousin species to his own. But they live thousands of miles to the south of his colony’s beaches!

When he finds his voice, he manages, ‘So you’re...you’re an emperor?’

Mumble nods. His beak dips, the expression bashful. ‘A poor excuse for one, yeah.’ Later, Nine will wonder at that statement. But he has bigger problems at the moment.

‘Bloody hell.’ Turning on the spot, Nine glares at the flat, desolate ice fields surrounding them. ‘This far south!’

A flipper brushes his back. ‘So,’ Mumble asks curiously, ‘what species are you?’

‘I’m a king penguin,’ Nine says hollowly. He laughs, derisive, and shudders as the wind picks up, chilling him to the bone. Even if this emperor rescued him from drowning, he has no idea whether he’ll survive the cold if he doesn’t make it back to his colony.

Puzzled, Mumble looks closer at the other male’s coat. Its obviously thinner than his own. That’s when the pieces click together in his brain.

Oh! King penguin. This male isn’t made to cope with the ice.

A clumsy tenderness awakens in him, prompting him to help. Mumble moves up behind Nine and wraps one flipper around him. The warmth of his body and the way he blocks the worst of the wind might help until they get to the emperor colony.

‘Here,’ he jerks his head towards Emperor Land. ‘My colony’s this way. Maybe we can help you.’

They start off, Mumble changing position occasionally so he can continue to block the wind.

‘Mumble?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Tha’s really your name?’

He laughs. ‘Yeah.’

‘You should smack whoever named you that.’

An incredulous laugh bubbles up from Mumble’s chest. ‘No, it’s fine! Her name’s Gloria, she’s my best friend.’

‘Okay.’ With a shrug, he decides to trust this Mumble for now. ‘Er, nice t’ meet ya. Name’s Nine.’

*****

Memphis is looking for Norma Jean when he spots his son walking back toward the colony.

‘Who’s this, son?’

A strange male is walking just behind Mumble, eyes wide, clearly nervous. When nobody speaks, he looks to Mumble for guidance.

‘It’s okay, Nine. This is just my pa.’ Turning to Memphis, he gestures with his beak at the newcomer. ‘Pa, this is Nine. I found him last night. He’s a bit lost.’

Well, this is new. ‘Where you from then...um, Nine?’

‘A long way north,’ is all Nine offers.

Mumble shrugs at his father. ‘He’s a king penguin. I gotta take him to the elders, see if they can help him find his way home.’

Memphis almost laughs, but manages to turn it into a nod. ‘Yeah, you better. Come find your mom and me when you’re done, though, boy. You got stories to tell us about your first fishin’ trip.’

At least Mumble isn’t foolish enough to keep something so important from the elders. He hasn’t had the easiest time with them, of course, but that’s not their fault. Memphis wonders, though, as Mumble leads Nine through the crowd toward the elders’ arch, about what odd friends his son has.

*****

‘A king penguin?’ Noah murmurs, peering at Nine’s face. ‘Yes, I recall what my father told me about your species. You have heartsongs too, do you not?’

Nine tries to ignore how unpleasant Noah’s breath smells. Mumble told him that this bent-backed male is Emperor Land’s leader, but he can’t for the life of him understand why. ‘Well, yeah, we do.’

‘Interesting, interesting...’ Noah opens his beak to say something to the other elders, but Nine speaks up again.

‘Well, I s’ppose, yeah, but I’m a bit more interested in finding the way back to my colony.’

Murmurs of disapproval from the other elders. Mumble, forced by some curious custom to stand a few feet off to the side, meets Nine’s gaze and shakes his head worriedly. What kind of colony does Nine come from? Mumble can’t help but wonder if they have no elders there. Surely if they did Nine would know not to speak unless spoken to!

One of the senior elders speaks up, his voice frail and whispery:

‘To answer your question, boy, we have no knowledge of where you come from. But if you want to stay –‘

Chest puffing indignantly, another interrupts. ‘Surely you can’t condone allowing this foreigner to remain!’

‘Have some decency! The poor young’n is exhausted. Let him at least get some fish in his belly, then we can send him home if we must.’

Nine looks to Mumble for help, eyes wide with alarm. The young emperor shrugs helplessly.

After a long and fierce debate the elders decide that Nine is allowed to remain for as long as he’s comfortable with staying. But as the young king thanks them and turns to follow Mumble back down the arch, Noah calls after him:

‘Lost One, I don’t know what the colony you come from is like, and I don’t care. I expect that you follow our rules while you share our fish and our protection.’

Nine hurries to catch up to Mumble, who’s almost halfway down the arch.

‘What does he mean? What rules?’

The young emperor’s laugh is hollow. ‘The real rule is ‘take an elder’s word as law’. They know everything.’ Or they’re supposed to.

‘You don’ sound like you believe that.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ With those words he shuts down, and doesn’t speak again until they find his parents.

*****

Chapter 2

The next few weeks are spent getting Nine accustomed to the freezing polar seas. They quickly discover that the shock of the cold climate jump-starts the growth of a secondary layer of feathers, which helps him adapt to the cold. Mumble can’t help but be thankful. Nine is the first real friend - besides Gloria - that he’s ever had. It would be a shame to lose him to the cold. Though of course he would prefer that if that had to happen it would be because of timely migration; watching Nine freeze would be a horror all its own.

Though as he gets to know the other male better he can’t help but wonder if his inability to sing will push Nine away anyway. It’s pushed everyone else away, even Seymour, who had been friendly at first.

One evening in particular finds the pair hanging out away from the rest of the colony, laughing and joking.

Nine has introduced Mumble – and, earlier, Gloria – to a modified version of a game he played with his friends back home. It involves kicking a rock (or in this case, a lump of ice) back and forth, with each player trying to get it past the other. They keep track of the points scored with marks clawed into a patch of ice off to the side of their playing field. 

At the moment, Mumble is shuffling the ice back and forth between his feet, trying to judge what direction to kick it. Nine is crouched, ready to move either way to intercept.

Then, as Mumble brings his foot back to kick, his claws tap against the ice. He freezes, trying to tamp down the sudden urge to let his happy feet do their thing. But the damage is done. Nine straightens and walks over, confused.

‘You okay, mate?’

Mumble puts his foot back down as carefully as possible. ‘Uh, yeah.’ Why is it that he can suppress the urge to dance anywhere except around Nine?

Nine studies the emperor’s face. ‘C’mon, I’d like t’ think I know you better ‘n that. You can tell me if somethin’s the matter.’

He looks so earnest. With a sigh, Mumble straightens and meets his friend’s eye. _I guess I should just get it over with now._

‘Okay. Sing, then.’

‘Sing? Y’mean...’

‘Whatever. Your heartsong, some tune, whatever.’

Nine’s clearly taken aback, but he acquiesces. His voice is low and sonorous – Mumble shivers at the sound, and wonders at how he can feel it in his bones in a way that he can’t when he hears anybody else sing.

‘Seems that I have been held in some dreaming state...a tourist in the wakin’ world, never quite awake...’

And Mumble lets his feet start to move, tapping out a rhythm in accordance to their own wishes. To his surprise, they start to punctuate Nine’s song in a gentle, supporting beat instead of simply making their own pace.

The song stops. When Mumble dares to look up, Nine’s ice-blue eyes are fixed on him as he expected. But also to his surprise, the king’s gaze holds no alarm or anger.

After a moment, Nine begins to sing again. He’s testing, this time, and Mumble feels his heart beating faster in a way he hasn’t felt since he was a chick, excited to dance and unafraid of the consequences.

‘And no kiss, no gentle word, could wake me from this slumber, until I realized...that it was you who held me under...’

Mumble starts to dance again, barely holding back the shivers of excitement racing down his spine. He can barely believe it. Nine...is singing for him?

And as he sings Nine tentatively begins to mirror Mumble’s movements, until they’re not even thinking anymore. The song takes on a life of its own as they let go of their fears. Closer and closer, circling each other, and Mumble feels as though his center of gravity has shifted incomprehensibly and completely.

_He’s my soulmate!_ Mumble realizes, and he can’t help but reach out with his beak, just to make sure that this is really happening, that this is truly real.

The song comes to a close as Nine reaches out too. Their beaks cross, curving gently to shape the space between their bodies into a heart.

‘You’re...’ The wonder and joy on Nine’s face is the best reward Mumble could ever have dreamed of.

‘I can’t believe this,’ he breathes. ‘I’ve never...I mean, I don’t have a heartsong! I never thought...’

Nine wraps his flippers around Mumble’s midriff in a gentle hug, and in that moment Mumble realizes that he doesn’t have to say anything more. Nine understands. The knowledge shakes him to the core as he leans into the embrace. He can feel the weight of years of being a social outcast slide from his shoulders (how had he ever gotten used to the peculiar weight of it?).

‘What’s going on?’ A voice asks.

They aren’t alone. Looking up, the new pair are abruptly made aware of the fact that Nine’s voice had echoed further than they expected. A rapidly swelling crowd of emperors surrounds them now, curious onlookers pushing and shoving to get a look at what’s going on.

Mumble seems to shrink with fear and tries to put Nine between himself and the alarming amount of attention. Sadness wells up in Nine’s heart as he fully realizes the hatred his soulmate has suffered.

‘It’s okay, Mumble,’ he murmurs. ‘They’re just curious, it’s okay.’

‘I hope so. They’re staring.’

A chuckle thrums in Nine’s chest. ‘What else is there to do? We’re the most interestin’ penguins here.’

Just like that he feels Mumble relax under his touch. They begin to walk back toward the elders’ arch and the main part of the ice bowl, and the crowd, foreseeing no more interesting events forthcoming, begins to disperse.

Then a voice that they know all too well booms through the crowd.

Noah forces his way through the press of bodies. Interest stirs again as he looks Mumble up and down, and Nine distinctly hears a female’s hushed whisper of ‘Did you see that? The outsider accepted Happy Feet!’

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Noah demands. ‘Mumble Happy Feet, did you somehow fool this outsider into thinking you are his soulmate?’

Poor Mumble has no answer. He lowers his beak nervously and can’t force it to open.

‘He didn’t fool anyone,’ Nine growls.

Noah’s laugh is scathing. ‘Didn’t fool anyone? You did notice that he didn’t even open his beak, hmm?’

‘Of course I did! But he didn’t need to, did he? He can dance.’

‘Dance? You call his hippity hoppity tomfoolery a proper substitute for a heartsong?’

There’s a fierce hiss of approval from the crowd. Nine’s stomach sinks as he sees the victorious gleam in Noah’s eye. He raises a flipper and touches Mumble’s back to comfort him.

‘It’s okay, I promise. They don’t understand, and we can’t make them.’

Mumble shivers. ‘Promise?’

As Nine opens his beak to reply, Noah’s flipper hits the side of his head with a sharp, painful crack.

‘Get out, Nine the Lost,’ the old penguin growls, punctuating his point with a menacing snap of his beak. ‘I banish you from Emperor Land, so that you and Happy Feet both can learn that this will not be tolerated!’

‘Then I’ll go with him,’ Mumble hisses, seeming to double in size as he stands to his full height.

Nine nods, and they turn to leave. But the rest of the elders appear from the crowd. They’re much bigger and heftier, fat from summers of being fed the best fish from the colony’s harvest. Nine cries out as they force him and Mumble apart, circling his mate and dragging him away towards their arch.

‘Stop that!’ Nine bellows, fighting to break through the ring of emperors. But broad, heavy flippers knock the breath from him and send him sprawling on the hard ice, and there’s the crowd to contend with as well. They heard Noah’s sentence.

Mumble can see nothing beyond the furious faces of the elders, feel nothing but their violent slaps. ‘Nine!’ He screams, struggling to catch sight of grey feathers and ice-blue eyes. ‘Nine!’ And faintly – how fast are they moving?! – he hears the reply.

The pain is overwhelming. Nine can barely see; one of the kicks split the skin above his eyes, and blood is obscuring his vision. He hears Mumble over the roar of the crowd, but just barely.

‘Mumble!’ He wails. ‘Mumble!’

Then the breath is kicked from his lungs and he collapses, beak wide, gasping for air.

*****

Mumble spends the next five weeks confined to a cave beneath the elders’ arch. The bruises and cuts from their beating haven’t even fully healed by the time they allow him to fish again. His injuries sting painfully as he steps out into the throng of emperors. The only mercy he’s afforded is that it’s close to mating season, so nobody pays him any attention as he makes his way across the ice toward open water.

As he gets to the edge of the colony a flipper touches his back gently. Startled, he turns, and finds himself beak-to-beak with Gloria.

Gloria looks her friend over. Bile rises in her throat as she sees the sadness in his eyes and the marks left by the elders’ cruelty.

‘I’m sorry, Mumble,’ She whispers. ‘I...I heard his song, and I got close enough to see at the end. I’m so sorry.’

He acknowledges her words with a slight bow. ‘Thanks, Gloria.’

She watches as he turns to go, and understands enough to let it be. For now. Once he dives into the water and is out of sight, she turns back to rejoin the colony. But her thoughts are far from happy, and for the rest of the day she doesn’t really respond to anything, her mind full of worry.

*****

Chapter 3

He hides away in a small ice cave – hardly more than an ice scrape, really – and stares at the fish he’s caught. It lies where he dropped it, dead eyes frosting over as he watches.

The elders gave him strict instructions to come back before the sun reaches its peak. But his heart, his soul, his very body ache for Nine. He can’t even bring himself to eat, though his stomach growls with hunger. So he does nothing, head drooping, feet itching to dance to his partner’s song.

After a few moments he hears faint cursing. Jerked from his reverie, Mumble blinks, turns to face the entrance to the cave. The voice is too quiet to pick anything out from where he is, but it’s getting closer, and he’s curious despite himself.

Mumble trudges out into the sun. _It’s well before noon,_ he tells himself firmly. _I have time to see what’s going on._

A lone figure – another penguin – is making his way down the slope just to the left of Mumble’s cave. The other is silhouetted by the sun, which peaks up over the edge of the ridge, so he can’t make out details. But his outline is so familiar that the young emperor is rooted to the spot as he strains to see.

Then the figure spots him, and freezes. Mumble can see his chest heaving. And as they stare at each other Mumble does the stupidest, bravest thing he’s ever done and allows himself to hope.

‘Nine?’

The question is answered when the figure throws himself down onto his belly and slides down the slope with a joyous cry.

‘Mumble!’

Laughing, Mumble races to meet Nine as the other male struggles back to his feet.

‘You’re alive! You didn’t leave!’

Nine snorts in disbelief. ‘Of course I didn’t leave! They couldn’t keep you forever-‘ He winces as his left foot touches the ground, and Mumble’s joy turns to concern.

‘What did they do?’ He breathes, bending to examine his mate’s leg.

‘Don’t know,’ Nine rasps. His breathing is heavy and labored. ‘They were kickin’ an’ kickin’, and I couldn’t do a thing. Eventually they stopped, but I couldn’t fish for days. Think they broke me foot.’

Mumble wraps his flippers around Nine’s shoulders. He tries his best to avoid the worst injuries, but he feels his mate flinch all the same. Anger wells up from deep inside him at the injustice of it all. He wants to scream, to fight, to run away; the needs are so many and so conflicting that the best he can do is offer comfort.

‘Are they...are they lettin’ you go where you want?’

‘Sorta,’ Mumble sighs. ‘They let me go fishing, but I have to be back before the sun peaks.’

‘Okay. That’s enough.’

Mumble looks worriedly at Nine’s drooping head and limp foot. He’s too thin; it’s clear that his testimony is correct, that the king’s injuries have kept him from being able to fish. Nudging his mate’s beak, Mumble inclines his head at the cave behind him.

‘Here, I have some extra fish. You look like you need it.’ He’s proved right in his assumption immediately, as Nine groans eagerly.

‘Yes, please!’

Mumble plucks his catch from the snow and extends his beak, offering the fish head-first. It’s gulped down in less than two seconds. His own stomach churns in silent protest, but Mumble doesn’t mind. The grateful nuzzle of Nine’s beak as he clumsily preens Mumble’s neck by way of thanks is more than enough reward.

They talk for a long while about anything that comes to mind, until it’s time for Mumble to go back to the colony.

‘Stay in here so I can find you again?’

Nine laughs weakly. ‘I will. Can’t manage any more walking anyway.’

‘I’ll be back soon,’ Mumble promises. His heart leaps as Nine nuzzles him in silent acknowledgement.

*****

Nine’s leg heals much faster now that Mumble is there to bring him food. Less than three weeks later it’s healed enough to walk on, as long as he doesn’t put his whole weight on it for extended periods.

During that time mating season has come into full swing. The songs have gotten louder, more desperate, and Mumble finds that he’s glad to be able to get away from the cacophony for a while each day. Their cave becomes a safe haven, the one secret place that no other penguins in the world know about.

However, spending time with Nine also makes Mumble wonder. He thinks about the other emperors, finding their own mates and then...well, having eggs. Though nobody ever took the time to explain the process of making an egg to him, Mumble has a dim sense that it requires something special to happen between a mated pair.

‘Well,’ Nine muses when Mumble mentions the topic as they gulp down the day’s catch, ‘I s’ppose it doesn’t do much harm to try. I mean, they talk about it as though it’s the best thing in the world, so at least it must feel good...Right?’

A nervous shrug from the emperor. ‘Makes sense.’

They’re silent for several minutes before Mumble speaks again.

‘So, d’you know where to start?’

‘Er, yeah, I guess. It happens year round for kings, no fixed season an’ all that.’

He circles around to stand behind the emperor, and Mumble holds still as Nine preens the feathers at the back of his neck. It feels nice; the soft nibbling soothing the confused tension that he hadn’t even noticed as they talked.

It’s nice, but he gets the feeling that it’s not quite producing the reaction it should. After a moment Nine huffs softly and stops.

‘Feeling anything?’

‘No, not really. That was nice, though.’

A pause, then:

‘Well, maybe you should ‘ave a go. My leg is complainin’ a bit.’

That triggers something. Not a thought, exactly, but a dim feeling. Like an instinct; like the urge to swim. Mumble nods. ‘Okay, then. Why don’t you lie down?’

‘To mate?’

‘Sure. I mean, it’s as good a guess as any.’

Shrugging, Nine lowers himself onto his stomach. He looks up at Mumble with a surprisingly vulnerable expression, and Mumble can’t ignore the shiver that races down his spine at the sight. Stepping around to stand behind his mate, the emperor reaches down to slide his beak through the soft grey feathers at the back of Nine’s head.

This time Nine feels shivers racing down his spine. The way Mumble’s body covers him makes him feel safe, protected. As he turns his head to touch bills, he begins to notice an unusual warmth beneath his tail.

He shivers, twitches his tail side-to-side, and Mumble straightens to watch.

‘What’s that?’

‘What’s what?’

‘That.‘ Mumble reaches down to poke Nine’s cloaca with his beak.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity through the king’s whole body. ‘Oh!’ He gasps, shuddering.

‘Did I hurt you?’

‘N...no, I...do that again?’

Mumble opens his beak and extends his tongue this time. Nine’s flesh is slightly wet, he discovers, and it tastes of salt and heat in a way that makes the emperor moan softly as he runs his tongue over it.

‘Great 'Guin, that’s good,’ he breathes, and Nine groans in agreement.

They continue like that for several more minutes before Mumble straightens yet again. His own cloaca throbs with need, and as he takes a moment to catch his breath Mumble begins to understand how to pleasure them both at the same time.

‘Raise your tail a bit more.’

As Nine obliges, arching eagerly in anticipation, Mumble steps up so that his mate’s tail feathers are brushing his belly. Then he slides his own tail beneath the king’s.

The rush of pleasure leaves him breathless. Their cloacae are the most sensitive parts of their bodies, and in that moment the pair understands why.

Then the time for thinking has passed and Nine shifts, trying to buck up against Mumble, seeking more contact. They throw themselves into it eagerly, rubbing and thrusting, their cries of ecstasy ringing through the cave.

‘Unh! Mumble, please...Don’t stop, don’t stop!’

‘Nine, oh, unf! I...oh, yes!’

Heat builds and builds as they keep going. Faster and faster, moans and pants becoming louder and more wanton, they lose themselves in the moment. The world narrows to the delicious friction of their bodies.

Until the heat suddenly bursts. Mumble yelps as he comes hard, seed spilling from his throbbing cloaca. Nine follows only seconds later, gasping and crying as the pleasure overwhelms him.

It’s finished. They’ve officially become mates. In the silence that follows Mumble moves to lay down at Nine’s side, exhausted. Closing his eyes, the emperor lets himself enjoy the peace.

Especially when a gentle beak begins to stroke and preen the grey down at the base of his neck.

‘We ‘ave t’ do that again sometime.’ Nine’s voice is a low, rumbling murmur in Mumble’s ear.

Too tired to do anything else, Mumble nods. The temptation to fall asleep is enormous. Nine senses this, and gives his mate a warning peck.

‘Don’t you fall asleep on me. It’s too close to noon for that.’

Mumble opens his eyes, the urge to sleep slipping away. ‘Yeah,’ He agrees. ‘Gotta get back before the elders get suspicious.’

‘Too late for that, you fools,’ the all-too-familiar voice growls.

Noah and several of the elders have formed a half-circle behind them. They loom over the newly mated pair, heavy and menacing. Mumble rises and turns to face them, positioning himself to protect Nine as he struggles to get up with his still-sore leg.

But as he rises Mumble notices two figures standing just outside the circle. His heart sinks as he sees the icy expression on his father’s face, the look of anguish in his mother’s eyes.

Noah sees where he’s looking. ‘Oh yes, Happy Feet. Your parents know about your debauchery. They see your wretched nature.’

A warm flipper wraps around Mumble’s back. He takes comfort from the gentle support, and shakes his head at the elders.

‘No. This is love, not debauchery!’

‘Two males sharing such intimacy,’ one of the other elders spits, ‘goes against all the laws of the Great ‘Guin!’

Nine hisses his anger. ‘Then the ruddy Great ‘Guin can jump off a cliff! Love isn’t wrong.’

‘Mumble, boy,’ Memphis waddles forward anxiously. ‘Mumble, you have to repent. If you become a proper emperor and are devout in your praise everythin’ll be alright.’

‘No, it won’t be,’ Mumble sighs. ‘And I don’t understand what makes you so upset. Just let us go! We’ll find our way to a different colony.’

The elders hiss and murmur among themselves as they wait for Noah to come to a decision. As he watches Nine and Mumble, Noah seems almost sorrowful. Then he shakes his head and turns away, waving a flipper dismissively.

‘We attempted to make these creatures see the error in their ways, to no avail. So now I banish them, and strip them of the name penguin, which they will never regain unless they demonstrate the proper remorse.’

Norma Jean gasps audibly, holds her flippers to her beak. _This can’t be happening! My poor Mumble..._

Memphis shows no such sign of regret. ‘Good riddance, I say. That boy was never a good egg.’

_Crack!_ Everyone in the cave stares, open beaked, as Norma Jean slaps Memphis hard across the face. 

‘I knew there was something wrong about your heartsong,’ She hisses.

And with that, she turns and leaves, head held high.

*****

Epilogue

Daybreak over the icy bareness of Antarctica. Sunlight glints off the ice like hundreds of tiny diamonds as the vast sheets give way to open water.

Two penguins waddle toward the nebulous boundary between sea and land. Exhausted as they are after their trek, their steps lighten as they see the finish right there in front of them. Blessed water, promising fish and safety from the coming winter winds.

Nine dives in right away. He vanishes under the waves like a torpedo, at home now even in the worst extremities.

His companion hesitates briefly, looks back the way they came. Out there, Mumble knows, is everyone he grew up with. His family, dysfunctional as it was; his friends, few as they were; his community, for all they rejected him.

Yet his soulmate is here.

Mind well and truly made up, Mumble turns and plunges into the twilight depths of the Southern Ocean. The past is the past, and it is behind him.

For now.

_

THE END

_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly not sure where this came from. I guess I just re-watched the film and went, 'We need gay Mumble'. Let me know what you think? Was considering doing a sequel, which may involve Norma Jean and Gloria becoming friends (or more).
> 
> Song is Blinding by Florence and the Machine.


End file.
